An Altmer's Angst
by Hide-Inside
Summary: A troubled Altmer outcast ventures to the Imperial City to escape her home in turmoil, thinking she'd be free to finally shape her own destiny, but she's unaware that the Gods are shaping it for her.
1. Chapter 1

FORWARD

The first chapter is purely informative, hoping to give you a look at how the character developed from childhood, with second and third chapters jumping into the story of how she ended up in the Imperial Prison- better written and full of details. The storyline of Oblivion is left more in the background with the unique perspectives, feelings, and reactions of this individual in the foreground. The girl is completely fresh and unprepared for her destiny. She is not another hero enduring a hero's trial, but is a normal citizen enduring a hero's trial and she doesn't start out brave, kind or heroic. She is new and inexperienced just like our characters in the beginning of the game. Please read the first two chapters and then leave criticism please!

INTRODUCTION

The air was cold and damp. The unmistakable smell of must and mold filled the dim, cramped jail cell. Moss and slimy mold covered the large sediment stone that made up the prison's floor, walls, and ceiling. Strong iron bars with a state-of-the-art lock secured the cell from the rest of the dungeon. Up against the right wall was a small table and chair made of cracked and rotting wood, hardly big enough for an adult to comfortably sit. An orange clay plate and pitcher sat on top, dusty, bare and bone dry. Directly across from the table on the left side of the cell hung loose chains and shackles, reserved for the city's most violent criminals and the dangerously insane. On the back wall was a single barred window; too high to ever see a view other than the sky above and too small to adequately light the room. An oil lamp on the prison wall burned, helping to illuminate the cell but once night fell, there would be barely enough light to see. Below the window on the ground laid a thin mat made of coarse straw. It contained little cotton and didn't offer much comfort but it did provide a place to sleep that wasn't rock hard stone. And in the center of the cell, obviously out of place, stood a young Altmer maiden. However, to call this woman an Altmer would be inappropriate and a lie by the standards of many Altmers, especially those in her home village. To be a true Altmer, one must have pure untainted Altmer blood and she was not pure. Believing their race to be descendants of the gods rather than merely created by them, they arrogantly held their race superior to all others. This maiden was only half-Altmer, a fact she was both aware and constantly reminded of her entire life. Anxious and distressed she observed her environment. Her desolate and dirty surroundings began to overwhelm her, and she suddenly desired sleep, the only escape. She crouched down to the mat, and wiped her hand across the coarse straw. Dust, dirt, and debris dispersed into the air and to the ground. She positioned herself stiffly on her side, her knees bent up towards her chest; the mat was too short for her long legs. Her eyes began to sting with tears as she thought of her home, her parents, and how the hell she got herself into this.

CH-1: EVERYONE HAS A PAST

Her Mother

This maiden had never visited Cyrodiil before. She lived all twenty years of her life in the small, isolated, and exclusive village of Nobilwyn, deep in the heart of Summerset Isle and restricted to only the wealthiest, most privileged and well-bred Altmer. Even other Altmers who didn't meet the village's high standards were often considered lowly and inferior. Founded in a valley south of Cloudrest, it is heavily guarded by natural barriers of mountains and forests. The only entrance to the secluded village is a narrow fissure between the mountain cliffs that runs 2 miles long and only 50 yards wide, keeping the village easily defended with watch posts and mindful of all citizens coming in and going out.

The girl's mother, Amanra, was a pure Altmer, a warrior and intellectual, and an expert in nearly all skills of combat, magic, and agility. Born in Summerset Isle, Amanra explored every corner and island near and around her country. As her fame and valor grew many warriors and soldiers revered her as a leader and followed her loyally in the battles against the Sload necromancers that plagued Summerset Isle. It was by a stroke of luck that Amanra earned a place in the exclusive village of Nobilwyn, which was notorious for its impeccable schools, zero-tolerance for crime, and lavish lifestyle of its citizens. She and her small contingent of men were tracking a particularly dangerous raiding party of necromancers for several days waiting for the most opportune time to strike. These necromancers, heavily equipped with enchantments protecting them from magical attacks, set their sights on the small rich village of Nobilwyn. The village, seeing the enemy approach, sent their strongest battle mages to meet the threat far from the city gates hoping for victory away from the village and its citizens. Because they were unaware of the magical protection the necromancers carried with them and unable to skillfully fight with normal weapons, the mages began to retreat soon after engaging the enemy. Seeing the opportunity to surprise the necromancers from behind and funnel them in the passage, Amanra and her men leapt into action, hacking and slashing, leaving behind corpses and severed limbs until all of the enemies were dead. They approached the gates of Nobilwyn. In awe of the strength and skill of this Altmer warrior and eternally grateful for being spared certain death, the village council extended an invitation to her, in lieu of their laws and traditions. They would not require official documentation of five generations of blood lineage, a clean arrest record, or expertise in magic. Her wealth and genealogy didn't matter. And while she was a powerful mage they didn't bother to inquire about her magickal skills either. During an honorary celebration for her and her men they offered her the finest house in the village in hopes she would stay and continue to protect the city. Tempted but not satiated in her hunger for adventure she politely declined. Feeling snubbed and disappointed but eternally grateful with their lives, the villagers promised her an open invitation hoping she'd one day return.

After many years of travel, battles and adventures she became stronger, wiser and wealthier, and inevitably bored with Summerset Isle. The necromancers were dispersed and no longer much of a threat. She was ready for something new. She was ready for Cyrodiil. It was in Cyrodiil, in a shop in Kvatch, where she met an Imperial Guard on patrol. Through time and circumstance they eventually fell in love which resulted in the birth of their daughter. Ready to finally settle down, she pondered where her daughter could grow up safely, where she'd have the best education and life. She immediately thought of Nobilwyn. Knowing they had the finest teachers, safest community, and with she herself being so homesick, she decided she would put the villager's word to the test. She would return, nearly ten years later, bringing with her an Imperial husband and an interracial daughter, both forbidden as residents in their exclusive village.

Her Father

Her father Xavier -an Imperial- was the other half of her, the one who tainted his daughter's blood as far as the villagers were concerned. This kind and noble Imperial Guardsman fell hard for Amanra's exquisite beauty and free spirit during her travels through Cyrodiil. As a traveling Guardsman, he'd often detour off of his Gold Road route to loot treasure caves and goblin hunt. He sold all sorts of merchandise he had looted during his frequent stops in Kvatch, ranging from gemstones to pelts to scavenged weapons and armor, and so he became a talented trader and good with money. He'd even assist travelers in need by selling them meat, weapons, and repairing equipment which supplemented his menial income. During a fateful visit to a merchant in Kvatch he met Amanra, who was selling her scavenged treasures as well. She stopped only briefly to engage him in chit-chat about their surroundings and possible caves and ruins nearby. Then she was gone. Completely smitten by Amanra during their brief meeting, his visits to the Kvatch merchants became much more frequent for several weeks- even when he had nothing to sell. Disappointed that she had not been heard from in weeks, he somberly continued his Gold Road route and Guardsmen duties. But one day, in the middle of the road, there she was! A Minotaur beast and his mate had engaged their prey- the Altmer Amanra. His heart beating with both the excitement of seeing her and the fear of seeing her fighting against two large beasts, he unsheathed his silver long sword and charged ahead. In a moment of testosterone fueled stupidity, he roared, and majestically jumped from his horse, leaping towards a Minotaur beast. And he missed. As he fell to the ground all he could see was a Minotaur dodging away and the bewildered expression on a pretty woman's face. His steel armor clattered and clanked as he hit the ground face down. When he recovered his senses and rose to his feet, the Minotaur pair was dead, Amanra's sword was sheathed and a chuckled escaped from her pretty pink lips as their eyes met. From there they laughed and talked all the way back to Kvatch- together. Amanra was charmed by his brave attempt at rescue, cheerful demeanor, rugged handsomeness and his infatuation with her that he later admitted to. He became a welcome companion on her journeys between Anvil and Skingrad. And when she was alone again on her travels she actually FELT alone and realized he was the first companion she ever deeply missed. As if a God had slapped her in the face, she awoke and realized there was another adventure she had never endured: Love and Motherhood. Xavier was thrilled that she had returned to him to confess her love, so he vowed to stay by her side no matter where she went. He no longer cared for his bachelor status and, bored with his Imperial duties, he decided to retire to adventure by her side. However within weeks of their union, he would no longer allow Amanra to venture into danger. She was pregnant. Upon realizing there was no where she'd rather be than in Summerset Isle, Xavier left behind his life in Cyrodiil determined to start fresh with the loves of his life; Amanra and their daughter Ami.

The Daughter

How she hated her name. It was her father's idea of course. High Elves prefer regal, glorious names over the common and mundane. "It combines Amanra and me. Am-me. It was either that or A-ma-me," he'd jokingly explain to her when she asked about her name. _How corny, _she thought, _but it could've been worse I suppose._

Even with mixed blood she was obviously of High Elf descent. Her features were softer and less jagged than most High Elves, but she still had the unmistakable high cheekbones and fair, luminous complexion. Her skin lacked the intense golden shimmer common to Altmers, but her skin still emitted a sparkly glow when under the sun's rays. She stood at 6ft, two inches taller than her father, but still several inches shorter than a typical High Elf. Her eyes were hazel and shimmered with bright green and gold tones just like her father. Her hair was just like her father's too. The dead giveaway to her interracial blood, her hair was a rich chocolate-mahogany, a far cry from the satin, golden, and dirty blonde hair color of her kin. Even the brunettes in her village sparkled with blonde highlights in the sun, but her hair seemed to glow with hot embers, like dark streams of lava in rivers of chestnut and obsidian. "Blood and mud," her classmates would snidely whisper in each other's ears, but strangely audible enough for her to hear. As a child she developed the strange habit of associating her personality and physical traits to each one of her parents: late to class/ mother, quick learner/ mother, clumsy/ father, hair color/ father. In fact, most of her less desired traits she usually would attribute to her father although it didn't make her love him any less. There wasn't a man alive who loved his child more than he did. However, while Ami felt proud and elite in her heritage as a High Elf, at the same time she felt defective and self-conscious especially growing up in the stuffy village of Nobilwyn. While her mother only had the best intentions for her daughter, Ami secretly wished she could live somewhere, anywhere else. Her mother's reputation and wealth kept most of the adults' mouths in check but the other children were quite relentless with their overt gossip and teasing on matters such as her mixed race, Imperial father, the family alchemist being a Breton, and most of all her star sign: the Atronach.

The Atronach

There isn't a worse zodiac sign for an Altmer than the Atronach. Almost all Altmers throughout Tamriel are very careful of one thing when they decide to procreate. They never try to conceive if, in the calculated future, the child would be born under the sign of the Atronach. More worldly and liberal High Elves may see this only as an inconvenience or tough luck but to the proud, pure, and arrogant citizens of Nobilwyn it's a joke, a bad omen, and should be carefully avoided. After all, Altmer are the most gifted of all races in the arcane arts. Their mana wells naturally run deeper and their prowess and mastery of magick are without equal. Even as a child, an Altmer can cast powerful spells and recharge at lightning speed which a well trained adult foreigner could only match after lifelong dedication. The best mages can practice spells over and over, all day and night, and quickly unlock the secret knowledge to becoming superb in most schools of magick. But to an Altmer, being an Atronach without the ability to recharge one's own magickal power is like being a cripple. Advancement becomes slow and difficult, or quite expensive. The Atronach's blessing of deeper magicka wells hardly supplements the negative effect. A skilled mage can cast powerful spells, immediately regenerate, and then cast another, not to mention they could use magickal enchantments to fortify even more magickal energy. An Atronach's ability to absorb energy from spells certainly helps but only half of the time. Altmers, being more sensitive to magickal energy, wouldn't risk being blown to bits by a massive fireball attack just so they could, maybe, absorb the energy. Therefore most Altmers strive to conceive at the most optimum times, hoping for a birth under the Mage or Apprentice, or really anything other than the Atronach. The inability to control one's primal urges for three to four weeks out of the year is considered among the Altmer to be beastly, unrefined, and quite shameful.

So there she was, the product of her parents' ill-timed union: _Atronach,_ she thought…hmm…she was unsure who to blame that on. When she was a wee child this wasn't so much of a problem for her in her spell training classes at school. Her magicka source was easily double the size of her classmates. Class was usually over before she was completely depleted and from there she went home, where her mother waited for her, with a potion to restore her magicka in hand. But as she grew older so did the other children, and so did the length of her classes. When she began to empty before her spell classes ended, her classmates would groan and roll their eyes, knowing they'd have to wait on her, for their Alchemist professor down the road to make her a potion and bring it to her. As her magick source deepened by twelve years old, she had become too expensive for the school to continuously provide potions for, and so Amanra was asked to supply her daughter with her own means to regenerate. Ami was considered "the slow one" by the village's teachers and she so badly wished her parents had been more careful when they were… doing it. _Insecure/father_ she noted. Knowing Ami's only option for regeneration was in alchemy, Amanra left Summerset Isle to seek out an old friend from Cyrodiil, Brennon the Breton.

A loner and old friend of Amanra's, he eagerly left Cyrodiil for Summerset Isle. Freelance alchemists weren't making much money at the time so he jumped at the opportunity for free room and board, steady pay and the chance to advance his skills in alchemy. After kindly reminding the villagers of their lifelong debt to her, Amanra was given permission to bring in another foreigner. He began to steadily produce potions for Ami- five a day- but as winter approached, ingredients became harder to find and more expensive to purchase. Her much needed potion supply dwindled and the cost was no longer sustainable during the winter months. Before long her teacher, just as exasperated as the students, began to resent that she slowed the class down. After a respectful but stern conference with Amanra, it was made clear Ami could stay in class as long as her magicka wells allowed, but would be dismissed immediately after depletion for the good of the other students.

Practice

Amanra was not at all like the other High Elves. She was just as beautiful, graceful, and magickally skilled, but she was also a proud yet humble warrior. Rarely would an Altmer be described as humble and even less often could they handle a sword as magnificently as she did. Most of the Altmer in her village wouldn't want to callous their hands especially when they could just flick their wrists and throw a fireball. Even after their vulnerability during the necromancers' attack, none really took to weapons training. She made sure her daughter did though.

She took the opportunity to train her daughter in the art of battle immediately after she was dismissed from class. Everyday from then on, Ami excitedly ran home from school, threw her books to the side and dressed in her specially made leather armor. She was the only child in Nobilwyn to own armor. She was also the only child to wield a sword, and not a specially made sword- a heavy silver long sword. It was the same one her father used to wield for the Imperial Guard. While her mother was master of blade, her father was an expert armorer. After two hours of blade training, she repaired her equipment as well as her mother's, quickly becoming an apprentice level swordswoman and armorer. After training ended, she always went to see Brennon.

She loved spending time with Brennon. He was her very best friend, her only friend besides her parents. He was short, only 5'5 and old, nearly sixty. He had black hair and a balding crown. His face was cracked with laugh lines and he was always chuckling and telling good jokes. He made Ami's strong restoration potions and it was also thanks to him that she was already an apprentice in alchemy. While the other children were still learning to recognize and name common herbs and flowers, she could accurately identify any plant in Tamriel as well as name the first two effects of their alchemical components. _Alchemy/mother_ she noted.

Death of a Family

Ami's life remained tolerable even enjoyable for the next few years of her life. The sneers and mean jokes from her classmates seemed to bounce off her. And as she grew stronger from weapons practice some students had loss the gall to even whisper about her. She was happy and confident for the first time in her life. _Confidence/mother_ she noted.

Then her mother became ill when Ami was sixteen. This wasn't a typical illness. Her most powerful healing spells had no effect. Neither did the spells of the village's healers. Even Brennon couldn't make a potion to heal her. Within a week she went from perfectly healthy to the brink of death. It didn't make sense. Altmers were naturally resistant to disease and ailments. The eldest and wisest village healer offered the only plausible conclusion he could muster. It was possible for a mage to use his genius and mastery of alchemy, destruction, restoration, and mysticism to create a masterful and dangerous poison spell hybrid. He concluded it must have bacterial or viral origins but with the rapid deteriorating tendencies of a destruction spell. The disease's ability to block healing attempts by spell, scroll, or potion suggested a manipulation of magickal and chemical restoration processes. A master of mysticism or illusion could also manipulate one's mind into trapping the spell's effect into a corner that can't be reached. Being an Altmer, its bacterial affect could have been held dormant by her own defenses, but its element of magick could not be as easily defended against. With enough knowledge of medicine, poison, destruction, restoration, mind manipulation and Altmer genetics a super poison spell hybrid could have been created. Neither of the magickal or bacterial aspects could be isolated from one other or from the mind, which prevented any form of healing. The other elders scoffed at the idea even though it came from their wisest and most respected sorcerer. There wasn't a sorcerer capable of such mastery inside Nobilwyn, or even Summerset Isle, and if the Altmers were unable to create such a poisonous spell, then it was impossible to create. Even if someone that powerful did exist outside Summerset Isle, Amanra had not left home in over three years. No spell or poison could lay dormant for that long and then awaken with such potency. It had to be something else. A curse from a Daedric lord or the will of the Gods was more likely than such a powerful potion or spell. They continued to deliberate, to heal and to pray but to no avail. Ami sat on the floor by her mother's bedside every night despite warnings she could be contagious and, every night, she fell asleep to her mother's hand stroking her hair, comforting her daughter in spite of her own illness. One morning when Ami awoke she was dead. Her eyes were closed and skin was cold. She died as peacefully as her ailment would allow- in her sleep.

When Amanra passed, the family she left behind crumbled, unable to cope without her. Xavier began to isolate himself from his daughter who looked so much like his beloved wife. He no longer trained her after school and Ami missed the bonding with her father. They both mourned, privately and alone. The townspeople did what they could to care for the family. Schoolmates were kinder to Ami even trying to cheer her up in class and the neighbors offered household support for Xavier, who was lost on how to raise a teenage daughter on his own. It wasn't often when a village Altmer died due to their extremely long life spans but when tragedy did occur they knew to help the remaining family members, especially Xavier who they figured would struggle. One neighbor in particular, Tresella, a teacher in etiquette, speech craft, and homesteading devoted a particular amount of time to caring for the broken family.

The Replacement

Tresella became a permanent fixture around the house, much to Ami's dismay. Tresella was a teacher of Ami's in a class she didn't do well in. Tresella never hid her contempt and agitation towards Ami, who never seemed to pick up the simplest lessons in etiquette or charisma. Ami's behavior wasn't befitting any Altmer lady, even a half breed. She was honest and curt and didn't see the point of a thousand flattering words when she could make her point with only a few. With Tresella assuming the role of Nursemaid in the house, much to Xavier's delight but Ami's chagrin, the home began to reform again. There was a time when weeks had gone by where they'd only eat dry bread and plain cheese, except when the neighbors brought warm food. However, with Tresella, warm meals were being served on a daily basis; stews, roasts, and casseroles - warm homemade food which they both greatly missed. And the dishes didn't sit to crust and smell. She did them everyday as well as the grocery shopping and laundry. Xavier, not wanting to exploit her kindness, began to pay her for her services and even offered her a room to stay in. In order to afford her for an extended period of time, he regrettably had to let Brennon go. Ami had enough knowledge to make her own potions to restore her magicka and his services were no longer needed. Even though Ami cried and fought for her friend to stay, Xavier insisted a caretaker was more necessary than an alchemist. The day Brennon left was another devastating day for Ami. He said nothing to Xavier, but lovingly bid Ami farewell. He hugged her tighter than he ever had before, knowing it would be the last time he'd see her, then he left. She didn't think her heart could break any more, but it did. She felt sick and angry at her father, but Xavier, knowing he could permanently count on Tresella's help, felt soothed. He had grown accustomed to her advice and guidance. With time his depression began to diminish. Being single with no family left, Tresella gladly accepted her new position, welcoming the pay and her new home.

Ami felt betrayed. Only a month after her mother died, her father had seemed to replace her. . He assured his daughter he would never love another like he did Amanra, and she knew he meant it. She knew her father was not intimate with this woman but she was still suspicious of Tresella's intentions. Tresella was aware just like the rest of the town of her mother's wealth from her adventuring days not to mention the most lavish home in the whole village. Tresella, even as a nursemaid was paid much more than her teacher's salary and with Xavier's permission, she asked the village elders to look for a replacement to teach her class. A fabulous new home-economics/etiquette teacher joined their community. Tresella soon had a firm grip on the household. Ami loathed this woman who tried to play the part of her mother. Ami's father was a decrepit shadow of his formal self and Tresella easily coaxed and convinced him she knew what was best. Ami began to rebel and act out in school, and behaved aggressively towards her classmates and fought with them. She was unable to escape her sadness and yearning for her mother and also her anger toward the intrusive Tresella. Her home was no longer an escape from the suffocating hands that tried to mold and reshape her. She could no longer dress in pants or shirts of commonality. She would only dress as a High Elf should; in dresses, skirts, and blouses. Every misused word or inappropriate sentence Ami spoke became a grammar lesson and she was constantly corrected by Tresella. Tresella made sure she was relentless in her mission the fix all the things wrong with Ami. They would argue incessantly with Tresella always being the victor. In the beginning of their war of words, she thought she could make her father see how deplorable this woman was, and then he would surely put her in her place. But every time she would turn to him, Xavier always took Tresella's side, unwilling to conflict with the woman that he believed salvaged his family, which further drove the wedge between him and his daughter. With Tresella in his ears and his head all day every day, she convinced Xavier that Ami was a problematic teen who, with discipline, would eventually behave and become a lady. She could convince him of anything. Ami fought and clawed for months against this woman who had taken control of her broken father and her entire life. But she couldn't win, not without her father on her side, and not within a village that disapproved of her heritage and deplored her behavior.

Playing the Part

Ami realized after months of turmoil inside her home and her head that the only way to be rid of this woman was to do as she asked. She would become a sophisticated lady, learn to take care of herself, her house, and her father, and then Xavier would no longer need Tresella. Ami knew inside she'd never really be a lady but she could at least pretend to be polite and docile. She would push her seething anger and nauseating depression deep below her surface, and appear calm and proper. She did well enough in school again to receive passing grades, although her magick skills were still a bit lacking. And she also stopped fighting with her classmates. She dressed in her expensive clothes, hiding how uncomfortable and cramped she felt in them. She tried to cook, even though the results were barely edible. _Bad cook/mother_ she noted. Her pain flared at the thought. None of this would have happened if her mother were alive. There were days when she could not maintain her façade of obedience and proper behavior, and lashed out in anger and tears but those instances had become few and far between. So for years, steady and determined she performed as a proper Altmer lady.

She had just turned twenty, the age that entered her into womanhood. Although she attended spell classes with students four years younger than her and she still struggled in some of her junior college classes, she believed she had successfully fooled the village and her father into thinking she was a proper grown woman. It had been almost four years since her mother's death. Her father never fully recovered but did seem a bit stronger. Ami's pain never lessened. She hid it well but the woman she grew to hate- Tresella- was still in her home, manipulating her father, acting out the role that belonged to her mother. But Ami had chosen her day. She had vigilantly kept her behavior in check and was ready to calmly and objectively confront her father. She would make him see they were both okay, and that the woman who made Ami's life hell, could be dismissed from her household.


	2. Chapter 2

CH-2: THE BREAKING POINT

It was a warm afternoon in late summer. The sun was still high, lighting the library den with a warm glow. The walls were made of the loveliest beige stone and the floors with the finest oak. A massive woolen rug with intricate red and violet patterns covered much of the room. Ami's father had the biggest private library in the village. The bookcases lined against nearly every wall except for the front with the beautiful glass window. After the death of his wife, he'd do nothing but read and sleep, using books as his escape from everything and everyone, but now he had recovered from his depression and enjoyed his hobby. Xavier was sitting in his favorite chair made of rich mahogany and red velvety cushions, dressed in his favorite velvet blue evening robe. The smoldering coals of the fireplace help to light the book he was reading- The Last Scabbard of Akrash- as well as his wrinkled face and dark auburn hair. Ami took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She lifted her head high, and stepped from behind the hallway wall and into the arched entrance of the library. She gracefully strolled towards her father. She was careful to approach him before speaking; talking across the room was considered rude.

"Father," she said. He looked away from his book and up at his beautiful daughter.

"Yes Ami? My you look lovely. What's on your mind?" He closed his book, listening intently. With his greeting, she gracefully took her seat in the matching mahogany chair next to her father, handling her luscious red and golden gown with proper care. Her heart was thumping with excitement. Soon her years of phony civility and patient planning would come to fruition. She laid her hands atop of one another and rested them in her lap, trying to keep them from shaking and smiled softly.

"I've been thinking about us Father, how well we've been doing. In fact, I've improved in my Alteration classes this week. My marks rose to level twenty!" she softly stated and proudly beamed. Her refined demeanor was faked, but her pride in her progress was real. Her father matched her proud smile.

"That's wonderful dear. Your mother would be so proud to see you now!" She felt a sharp and sudden pain like a dagger stabbing her guts her at the mention of her mother. _No, Mother would be ashamed that you didn't carry on with her training and instead turned me into a useless woman with only pretty words, _she thought. Ami never improved her blade, block, light armor, or armorer skills since her mother had trained her, and Amanra had made it clear that was what she wanted for her daughter. This was not. She didn't allow the pain to show on her face, which shone with an infallible false smile.

"I was thinking – now that my twentieth birthday has past – it is time for me to assume the role of household matriarch. I'm now of age and fully capable of the responsibilities. Mother _would_ be proud of the woman I've become," her gut tightened at the lie she told, "and I'm ready to care for us and our home -alone. Tresella has performed her duties well," her face began to warm with anger at such a blasphemous lie, but she calmly continued, "but it is time for us to stand on our own." She reached out her left hand and rested it on her fathers, giving him her best "daddy's girl" look. His eyes lost her gaze as he glanced solemnly down at his book. Ami's stomach turned, realizing he was resisting her suggestion. She pulled her hand away and continued to lay out her case.

"I'm grown now father and capable of running the house and taking care of you. While Tresella has helped us a great deal over the years, we no longer need her services and we'd be saving a great deal of money by releasing her. I've even thought we could leave this extravagant house and buy a smaller one, perhaps in Skywatch near the beach!" she suggested. _Am I coming on too strong, too eager?_ She was suddenly very nervous and light headed. She could no longer hide her willingness to be rid of Tresella and this town. _Nerves/ father,_ she noted to herself. Her father was silent, still looking towards the floor. She wanted to insist at him: _Well…? WELL? WHAT SAY YOU?_ But she remained calm and quiet, waiting patiently for him to gather is thoughts. She couldn't risk being obnoxious in any way. She must be very careful.

"We would not be saving money by firing her," he finally replied, lifting his eyes to meet hers, "I haven't paid her in years." Ami's eyebrows burrowed slightly, inquisitively, "Why?" Her father was silent for another moment but he was not gathering the words, but the strength to say them. He swallowed and stated:

"We are married."

In Pieces

She stared at her father, mouth open, blank stare, completely stunned. Her blood inside rushed to her head and face. She felt dizzy and disoriented. Her face burned and eyes stung. Her father quickly tried to explain, bracing his hands on his daughter's arms, trying to calm the temper that simmered below her surface.

"W-we married two years ago," he stammered. "After all this time living in the same house, spending so much time together, we couldn't help that we cared for one another. I was so proud of the improvements you made with her help. And she was such a good mother to-" Ami broke from his grasp and shot to her feet.

"SHE WILL NEVER BE MY MOTHER!" she roared almost animalistic. She could feel her face was beet red. Her fists were tightly clenched at her sides and she began to lose her breath. "HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME? HOW DARE YOU?"

A string of "How could you…"'s and "When…"'s, and "Why…"'s flew from her mouth too quickly for her father to answer. She began to pace the room, irate at her father's belated news, and yelling almost incoherently. Tears of hate and anger flowed down her red cheeks. He had betrayed her, and even though her mother had been dead for years, she felt he betrayed her as well. It was her father's turn to be stunned by his daughter's revelations. Her transition from calm and composed to the infuriated beast that prowled the room scared and bewildered him. He stood silent and still, his face burdened with guilt. She knew at that moment her family could not be salvaged and she would not be spared from Tresella or this life in Nobilwyn. She didn't know her father anymore. He had abandoned his honor and his backbone.

From the corner of her eye she saw Tresella appear in the archway. She must have heard the screaming coming from the library and had come to reinforce her husband. She stood tall and elegant; her elbows were bent with her hands clasped together at her waist. Her face was stoic with her eyebrows slightly cocked with the snooty, smug expression Ami had become accustomed to. She wore a rich chestnut brown gown with delicate gold flowers embroidered all throughout the bust and skirt. Her golden blonde and silver hair was tied in a high knot above her head. Flowing ringlets fell loose around her face, resting just above her shoulders. She seemed to glide, almost float, towards her husband and rested her bony hand on his arm.

"My love," she cooed. It was the first time Ami heard her use those words directly to her father. Ami glared so evilly at Tresella, hoping she'd just drop dead. "Perhaps it is time that Ami and I discussed this openly likecivilized _ladies._" She stressed the word "ladies" in her typical passive-aggressive way. "Why don't you take a walk, dear? After all, it's a lovely day out. Ami and I will be just fine here together." She kissed Xavier on the cheek, making Ami wince with disgust, and began to lead him to the archway. Abruptly Ami stepped in front of them, blocking their exit. She'd had enough of her father behaving like a dog led on a leash by Tresella.

"No," she growled staring intently into the steel grey eyes of Tresella. "You will stay and face this, father. You will face me in this and you have no choice in the matter! This is our battle to fight- not hers! You are neither a child nor a lapdog, but a grown-ass man and you WILL FACE THIS!" It was the first time she had ever yelled at her father like that, but not the first time she wanted to. At this point she had nothing left to lose. His eyes met hers and she read them like a book. _I am so very tired of your nonsense,_ they said. He no longer had the will to fight even if it was for his daughter. He kissed Tresella on her cold cheek and silently stepped around his daughter. He obeyed Tresella and went outside for a walk.

War of Words

They were alone. Tresella remained as calm and cool as when she entered the room. They stood a few feet apart and across from each other, foes, both staring with equal intensity. Ami knew Tresella's game already. Tresella would play the sensible adult, the voice of reason while Ami's place was to play the unreasonable spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum; but Ami would play different this time. She stood tall, confident with her arms firmly crossed. Her boiling anger had cooled into ice cold venom and she was ready to spit it with her words. Each waited for the other to speak; Tresella conceded.

"My dear…" Tresella began.

"Ami." she interrupted. Tresella mouth tightened, and then smiled softly.

"Ami, my dear, must we…" she began again.

"No! Just Ami. Don't bother with your endearing little pet names. My father's not here for your show and you and I both know that you're a phony and as transparent as that window," she scoffed, cold and blunt. Ami could see Tresella's already tight face pinch even more.

"How quickly you displace all training of proper etiquette. It's unfortunate… your unwillingness to conceal your vulgarity. However, you're twenty years of age now. I do believe we can discuss this without infantile and crude remarks," she smugly replied. Ami remained silent, waiting for Tresella to continue and supply her with more ammo. Misinterpreting Ami's silence as an agreement she continued,

"It is my understanding that your father finally revealed to you our marriage," she turned away from Ami and gazed nonchalantly out the window and continued, "I can't tell you how relieved I am by this news. It was my opinion you should have learned of this long before now, believing you were mature enough to handle it, but you're father was right I suppose. After all I have done for you; you would never have welcomed me into your family."

"Why should I have welcomed you? You weren't family and you're still not! You hid beneath a charade of comradery and patronage to assimilate yourself into my family before the glow diminished from my mother's skin! You left your marginal home to live in our mansion like a queen! And your lavish wardrobe, glittering jewels, and magickal trinkets- all of it bought with my mother's cache! But of course this was your intention all along wasn't it? You may have fooled my father with your guile but not me! There's not spell you could cast that would make me warm to you! Perhaps they worked on the broken soul of my father but they can't work on me!" she ranted. Her face began to redden as her anger returned. Tresella was aghast, her face marred with disgust and revulsion at the accusations.

"How dare you!" she hissed, "To accuse me of such atrocities... of such blasphemous deceit and greed! To degrade my love for your father-"

"Love!" scoffed Ami. "When did love between Altmer and Man stop being a disgrace and become acceptable to you? When my mother died? Since I was a child you flapped your fat tongue with the rest of this town, ridiculing my father and I, my heritage, and magickal skill. But quietly, like cowards! Do you think I couldn't hear your gossip, or notice your looks of disdain in class? That I didn't know? At least the cowards of this town had the decency to be kind to us after her passing, when you only thought of yourself, and what you could leech from us! How could a racist like you love a man you believe is inferior? You don't even have the capacity to love!" There was nothing Tresella could say. For once she was dumbfounded without a single snide remark. Ami's mind and body tingled with a natural high. She had done what she never could before. She fully unleashed her long subdued anger that was fueled by her stuck-up, suffocating village, their sneers and gossip they kept hidden only from her mother, Tresella's many manipulations, the remnants of her father, and her own self-degradation and pity. She called out Tresella for what she was and it stuck her in the ribs. It was Ami's turn to wear that smug expression- her eyebrows cocked, her mouth in a tight smirk, and a stone cold stare. Tresella, more flustered than usual, and aware that Ami's visage was meant to mock her, scurried across the room. Pausing only for a moment underneath the library archway, her back still towards Ami, she muttered between clenched teeth, "You've gone too far. Your father will hear of this, as will the Council." Ami was counting on it. She waited patiently, calmly for Tresella to exit and the front door to slam.

Time to Leave

Upon hearing the familiar bang of the door, Ami bolted from the library, and up the hall stairway, taking two steps at time, clumsily tripping up the last one_. Clumsy/Damn it, dad!_ She scrambled to her feet, and ran towards the end of the hall, her clomping feet causing an echo throughout the house. Her brazen accusations of fraud, greed, racism, and brainwashing, when presented to the Council, especially by Tresella's silver tongue, could result in severe penalties for Ami. Nobilwyn's reputation for being the safest village in Summerset was backed by their zero intolerance policy on crime and unruly behavior. Battle mages enforced their laws but Nobilwyn didn't even have a prison. Criminals were escorted to Cloudrest by a Council official and battle mages, while the uncouth and obscene were evicted from the village. Ami's unruly behavior was tolerated as a minor but now as an adult- inexcusable. Slander against such a popular and prominent citizen would not be taken lightly. Not only would she be reprimanded for her verbal assault but possibly, without her father backing her, evicted from her home and removed from the village. She refused to leave that decision in their hands.

The very last room on the left was her father's. She rushed in, the door swinging hard against the wall behind it. She slid to her knees in front of the mahogany chest at the foot of her father's bed, ripping a hole in her dress at the knee. Tresella's coin purse rested on top. Ami slid the long rope strap on her shoulder and around her neck, so it hung securely across her body, and then focused her attention on the chest. Locked! She hadn't thought about that. Her eyes darted around the room. A tall narrow stone pedestal sat between the two bedroom windows and on top was a marble sculpture. She struggled to lift its weight even thought it was only of the head of some Cyrodiilic leader. She did her best to aim the heavy marble head, and threw it on the padlock as hard as she could. It rattled the chest and hit the ground with a resonating thud, denting the wooden floor underneath. The locked was still intact and attached to the hinges, but the hinges had been ripped from the chest. She threw the lock aside and knelt in the bits of splintered wood. She lifted the lid and quickly retrieved her prizes from inside.

The inside of the chest seemed to glow as the light reflected off the gold pieces, easily fifty thousand of them, and only a fraction of their wealth. She stuffed her purse with as many as it would hold- five hundred pieces. She dug through the rest of the coins, scattering them on the floor as if they were the dirt on top of a buried treasure, until she caught a glimpse of brown suede leather. She pulled at the protruding material, revealing a long single strap. She rose to her feet continuing to pull, scattering more coins as a soft leather backpack revealed itself. She held the bag in her hands running her fingers across the luscious suede. It was her mother's travel bag. It was an ordinary looking bag, common to most travelers. But her mother, ever so clever, enchanted this ordinary bag with an exceptional and unique spell.

Ami could remember her mother coming home from an extensive day of errands. Her mother reached into the bag which appeared to be only a foot and a half deep. Instead of stopping just below her elbow, her arm sunk deeper and deeper inside, as if it had no bottom, until the bag's mouth was up to her shoulder. As her arm emerged, clutched in her hand was the jeweled hilt of a sword. She withdrew the elven sword from the sack and it was easily over four feet in length. "See," her mother had said, pointing to the emerald and topaz gemstones, "I had these gems embedded into the handle. It will complement nicely to the décor in the dining room." As beautiful as the sword was, the mysterious sack intrigued Ami more. Moments later her mother also unpacked potions, new books for her father, watermelons, and bread- which amazingly wasn't crushed, along with many other provisions. Now, years later, the sword was long gone- sold when Tresella decided the house needed new décor- but Ami knew her father would never have parted with Amanra's beloved bag. And now it belonged to Ami.

She strapped her bag parallel to her coin purse and darted down the hall and back down the stairs. She wondered how long she had taken and if she was moving quickly enough. She opened the front door and stepped outside. The sun's glare blinded her squinting eyes and she stopped for a brief moment, waiting for them to adjust. As she regained her clarity, she turned to her right and briskly walked towards the city gate. She suddenly realized she must have been jogging, because as soon as she turned at the next pathway, she saw Tresella walking ahead of her. Startled, she made a bee-line to the garden next to her and crouched behind the fence. She slowly peeked over the top and watched Tresella, obviously still fuming, walking towards the chapel, her father's favorite retreat. Tresella tugged at the heavy chapel door and disappeared inside.

"What are you doing?" The voice behind her made her jump and she looked up to the man who had startled her. It was Veldimon, an alchemist and the snooty owner of the garden fence she was hiding behind.

"I'm just…" She scrambled for an excuse as to why she was sneaking around then saw a Fly Amanita mushroom; "picking ingredients!" she explained and reached for the fungus.

"Don't even think about it! I grow these mushrooms specifically for my experiments, now kindly remove yourself from my garden and wipe my clouded funnel mushrooms off your feet!" he snapped. Her face burned with embarrassment. She stepped all over his alchemy garden. She quickly jumped to the side, removing the pieces from her shoe wedges.

"I, I'm so sorry! Here," she handed him the smashed pieces, "I'm sure they're still useable. M-my father can repay you," she stammered.

"Oh don't worry about it," he sneered, rolling his eyes, obviously still agitated. "I'm sorry," she apologized once more and turned away, jogging again, not wanting to risk bumping into her father or Tresella exiting the chapel. She made it to the gate and shoved her body into the heavy door. It opened, slowly, and she exited the city.

Escaping the Village

She shoved her body against the gate closing it behind her. The only route out of the city was straight ahead, a long stony crevice between parallel ridges of this horseshoe shaped mountain chain. To her left- a long stable containing twenty or so horses, feeding on hay since grass didn't grow outside the city. To her right- a small stone building, the stable office. She didn't have time to deal with Marleya, the stable woman. She was one of the few villagers who were kind to Ami- too kind. Marleya would always engage her in the polite but irrelevant chit-chat that the other villages always participated in, with everyone but Ami, of course. She appreciated her kindness, and almost felt guilty that she wouldn't speak with her one last time, but soon her father and Tresella would be back home, ready to drag her to the Council and aware of the mess she made in their room- not to mention the gold and bag she stole. There was no time. She couldn't risk being caught and led to the prison of Cloudrest; she wasn't just a slanderer any more but a thief and a vandal.

She opened the stable gate and sought out Dash, her father's white and brown horse. She worked quickly, dressing him in his saddle and bridle, then mounted him in record time, and took off to the first watch post. The horse was fast, but with her urgency to flee, she felt as if he were just strolling along without a care. They passed the first stone watch post, yet the second seemed so far away. She gave a slight but sharp heel to Dash's ribs and he seemed to quicken his pace. Her stomach was turning, her teeth were grinding and anxiety was taking over. _Did father and Tresella make it back to the house yet? _The knot in her stomach tightened as she flew past the second watch post. _Only one more left. _She knew she couldn't just race by the third one. It was mandatory procedure to state your business when leaving the city as well as give an estimated time of your return. After all, the safest village in Summerset Isle would naturally keep track of its citizens - big brother at its most diligent - and also had a curfew. If you didn't return by ten p.m., you were locked out - S.O.L.

As she approached the third watch post she could clearly make out two figures dressed in iron armor. Without seeing their faces she knew who would be working during this shift of the day - Amerin and Narillo. She tried her hardest to never speak to Narillo; he was an ass, which meant she would speak to Amerin, a respectful and honorable battle mage who made her cheeks blush and heart flutter. She pulled the reigns on Dash's bridle bringing him to a stop a few yards from battle mages. She felt relieved as Amerin stepped forward to greet her.

"Good afternoon, Ami," he smiled when he said her name. Suddenly she didn't feel as rushed to getaway. She smiled, genuinely, for the first time that day.

"Good afternoon."

"Where are you off to?" She was ready with her response.

"To gather alchemy ingredients. I'm afraid I've cleaned out all of the flax and steel blue entoloma mushrooms inside the city as well as the shops too," she abruptly giggled, then immediately blushed because she wasn't sure why. He didn't seem to notice.

"Ah, I see. When will you be returning?"

"Not for a while, perhaps even a few hours. I had hope to stock up so I won't have to go out again for another couple of weeks," she explained.

"Are you armed?" he asked.

"Why?" she asked suddenly suspicious of his questions.

"Wolves and bears. They've become more aggressive… more active. They've been spotted more frequently near the roads. With the coming of winter, I suppose they're trying to fatten up for hibernation." He explained. No, she wasn't armed. Her heart sank, suddenly and frighteningly aware of the danger ahead on her journey. She was so overzealous about confronting her father and Tresella, and then about the fantasy of running away, she never thought outside her emotions, about the reality of it all. The urge to turn back came swiftly as did her creeping regret. Could she face her father and Tresella after her infuriated outburst and after she vandalizing their room? Could she possibly apologize to…NO! She could not; she would not! She wouldn't crawl back to her spineless father and apologize to that heathen Tresella. This was it. She'd be on her own and completely in control of her own destiny for the first time in her life.

She smiled, this time faked, feigning confidence,

"I'm capable of handling a few beasts on my own." Amerin nodded, convinced by her confidence and stepped aside.

"Be careful. Stay alert," he advised. She gave a slight nod and with a light heel in Dash's side, she commanded him

to move forward. She had only gone a few yards when she heard Amerin call from behind.

"And Ami! Happy Birthday… well belated birthday anyway!" She coyly looked at him over her shoulder, winked, and obviously flirting said,

"Better late than never." She gave him one last smile then beckoned Dash to dash.

The Harbor

She made it. She arrived at the coastal town of Shimmerwave; an extension of the city Shimmerene, just as the sun was setting. Night would rule within the hour. She nearly rode poor Dash into the ground in her haste to beat nightfall, only stopping once to hydrate him at a stream not far from the main road. Ami was fatigued and her thighs and back were sore. She had never ridden a horse for that long in her life. She passed the time by going over her last words to Amerin repeatedly in her head. She blushed during the whole ride to Shimmerwave. She couldn't believe how forward she was. She went through every scenario in her head: _Was he flattered? Embarrassed? Put off? Will he be blamed for my escape? What does he think of me now that he surely knows the details of my abrupt departure? What is my father thinking? Will they search for me? Will I be caught? _ She deliberated to herself during the entire trip, which made the three hour ride fly by. She didn't encounter a single beast.

She dismounted Dash and led him by the bridle reigns. Outside the gates of Shimmerwave, was a stable and office, typical of all cities. She opened the stable gate and led Dash in, tying his reigns to a post. She exited the stable, careful to close the gate behind her, and approached the small stone building. She opened the door and peered inside, searching the room for assistance. Her eyes rested on a pretty Altmer who appeared as young as Ami, sitting behind a plain cedar desk. She looked up from her papers she was busily scribbling on and smiled at Ami.

"Hello! Oh, please come in! I'm Redyline. How can I assist you?" Her tone was warm and inviting. Immediately Ami felt comfortable and stepped inside.

"I'd like to sell my horse. I'll be leaving Summerset for a while, and I want him taken care of," she said approaching the desk.

"Alright. Will you be returning? We can offer you boarding for him for up to six months if you plan to return." She hadn't thought if she'd return. She didn't know what anywhere else had to offer. _What if this doesn't work out and I have to come back, _she wondered. _Boarding will be expensive, I know. I think Marleya once said it costs 12 gold pieces a day._

"No, probably not soon. How much can I get for him?"

"Do you have your deed of ownership and breeding papers?" she asked. Ami knew she should have spoken with Marleya. She would have remembered to get those papers. _No I couldn't have taken them,_ she thought, _not without drawing suspicion._

"Oh… no. I'm afraid I've forgotten them. It's such a long ride back home, I'm afraid I'll miss the boat if I try to retrieve them," she lied, hoping Redyline would buy it. The young Altmer shook her head,

"I'm so sorry, but I can't purchase your horse without them," she apologized, sounding genuine. There was only one thing Ami could do to be sure sweet Dash would be taken care of.

"Would you be able to board him? I must make my boat, but I could find time to return in two weeks to transport his papers," she lied.

"Why, yes! We'd be happy to board him. It will cost 198 gold pieces, that's 14 per day, plus 10 pieces in tax. That will cover all his food, water, grooming, and stable rent. I'll find your paperwork." Ami cringed, that was a bit more than Nobilwyn's stable, and a bit more than she wanted to pay but she couldn't abandon Dash without knowing he'd be taken care of. She counted out 208 coins, leaving her with only 292. As Redyline laid a piece of parchment full of legal terms and conditions in front of her and handed her a quill, Ami asked nonchalantly,

"If I'm back sooner than two weeks will I be refunded for the remaining days?"

"Why of course! Please write the horses name and description here," Redyline pointed to a blank line on the paper. As Ami filled in the blanks and signed her name- as Amanra Dellora, her mother's maiden name (in case anyone came looking for an Ami Mandonus, her given name)- she again, asked nonchalantly,

"And if, for some reason, I arrive late, past the two weeks agreed upon?"

"We'll keep him for up to another week, for which payment, tax, and interest will be due upon your return. However past that grace period, you forfeit your ownership of the horse and we reserve the right to keep or sell him."

"Ah, well, I'll be sure to promptly return then," she lied. "Thank you Redyline, I'll see you in two weeks," she smiled at her and hurried out towards the door.

"Safe travels, Amanra!" Ami heard as she exited the office; again her gut wrenching at the mention of her mothers name. She made sure to leave before Redyline remembered that Ami had no legal claim on the horse. Ami hoped her last few questions deceived her into thinking she was reputable and would return, therefore forfeiting Dash into her care without needing legal papers. Ami strolled toward the city gate, focused on her task at hand.

The high stone walls wrapped around the small bay town, not in a circle, but in an oblong crescent, allowing access only by sea or by front gate. On the inside of the walls, a single line of shops, inns and buildings were built close, side by side. There were no residential homes, they were found in Shimmerene. Shimmerwave was a business port only. The shops and walls looked just like Nobilwyn, the same stones and architecture. Ami strolled along the stone path towards the harbored boats, passing the shops along the way. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the salty sea air. The ocean breeze whipped through her ponytail and sporadically misted her skin with cool sea water. The sun had disappeared from view, leaving behind a deep pink, purple and blue trail. Dark blue began to flood the sky and stars began to sparkle into view. Across the wide sea channel she could vaguely make out the large island that contained the cities of Firsthold and Skywatch. She turned to her right onto the long stone peninsula that led to the anchored ships. Her eyes assessed the conditions of the few boats that were harbored at the docks, deciding which one to venture into.

Out to Sea

Of the four boats floating in the harbor, she was told by a friendly dockworker that only one was for citizen transport. The others were privately owned by wealthy citizens. A rather unimpressive barge, it was far smaller than the private boats, but it was her only option. She approached the bridge that led to the boat deck. Guarding the bridge leading to the deck was a burly Nord leaning against a post. He was tall and blonde and held a small lantern in his left hand. He appeared to be chewing what she assumed to be tobacco. His wool shirt was grimy with pools of sweat soaking his chest and underarms. She approached him and as she did, she caught a whiff of a putrid smell, and realized it was him. She crinkled her nose, briefly with disgust, but did her best to hide it as she politely spoke to him.

"Excuse me sir. I was told this is the only civilian barge in the harbor. How much is transport and a room?" she inquired.

"Don't you wanna know where we're goin'?" he asked, and then spit out a gooey brown liquid into the sea next to him. Her face was unable to hide her revulsion. No one in her village chewed tobacco- much less had the impudence to spit. It was considered a raunchy, foul habit. She continued, trying to ignore his offensiveness.

"It doesn't really matter. How much please?"

"One hundred fifty pieces," he said, then snorted his snotty nostrils. Ami didn't know what horrified her more- the gross Nord or the extravagant price.

"One fifty! Why? Where is it headed?" she asked completely aghast.

"Thought you didn't care," he snidely remarked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, no longer hiding her feelings about this brute. He continued, "We're heading south down the channel instead of north fighting the current, then we're gonna wrap around, pass Valenwood and Elsweyr, and head up the Imperial channel. Our destination is the Imperial City waterfront." Ami began to count the coins from her purse, and questioned,

"But why so expensive? This is hardly a first-class barge," she belittled.

"You live under a rock? You snooty elves have been boycotting Imperial goods and trade. Business is bad. How else we gonna make up the difference in losses? This is the only boat goin' to Cyrodiil for several weeks. If you wanna wait for another ride, the next boat scheduled to arrive in Shimmerwave is from High Rock, in about a week and a half. And the trip back is longer so you're gonna pay even more," he explained. _High Rock,_ she thought,_ with a bunch of barbaric orcs? Never._ She couldn't wait for a week and half anyway. She handed him his fee, noting she only had one hundred and forty two coins left. It made her nervous but she couldn't turn back now. He took her coins and put them in his satchel that hung at his side.

"Go on up. There's a door to the left that leads inside. Talk to Vargenoc. Tell him you spoke to, me- Barkwell- and he'll show you to your room," he instructed. "We set sail in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," she said flashing him a polite but phony smile.

"Yeah," he said and spit again. _Barbaric nord!_ She gritted her teeth and walked up the bridge. The boards under her feet cracked and groaned beneath her weight . She entered the door to the left as Barkwell instructed and looked for Vargenoc.

Sea Sick

Vargenoc was an Orc. Even with her own experiences of racism, the Altmer side of her still held prejudices against other races, especially towards Orcs, Dunmers, and the beastfolk Khajiits and Argonians. Besides being big, green, ugly, dumb and smelly, Orcs lack any trace of manners, even making Ami's behavior seem sophisticated and polished. She cringed, hoping the conversation would be brief. She had never seen or spoken to one before, only overheard conversations from villagers in Nobilwyn who had. She had also read the book How Orsinium Passed to the Orcs but that was the extent of her Orc knowledge. She walked through the dim lit room. It smelled of burning oil lamps, mustiness, and the salt of the sea. The oil lamps inside flickered with tiny flames, barely lighting the small room, but safe enough to not light the boat on fire. Inside were two round wooden tables, each with four wooden chairs. Bowls of fruit and cheese sat in the middle of each table. On the left side of the room the Orc stood behind a long wooden bar, wiping a metal cup with a rag. He sat the cup down as he saw her approach, alert and welcoming. She wore a very Altmer kind of smile as she went to greet him- tight, phony, and condescending. She laid her hands on top of the bar, then, realizing how dirty it was, wiped them on her dress and let them hang at her side.

"Excuse me, Barkwell sent me in. I've paid for a room. He said you'd show me to it," she kept her words brief, anxious to be away from him. The Orc wore armor, as they often do, made of fur and leather, with a small iron dagger sheathed at his waist.

"Ah hello beautiful lady! Welcome! I'm Vargenoc. You'll be joining us back to the Imperial City, eh? Good! Can I pour you some mead or how 'bout some food?" he asked with a smile showing his oversized and crooked teeth. She was taken aback by his friendly demeanor. Her nerves had been haywire for the past several days in anticipation of her grand plan, which killed her appetite. She smiled back, more at ease.

"No thank you. I'm in need of rest more than anything else. I've had quite a long journey," she said.

"Ah well I'll show you to your room then. We have lovely rooms! Quite comfortable and much cleaner than the rest of the boat," he said as he rapped his knuckles on the top of the bar and stepped around it. Ami blushed, embarrassed that he noticed her wiping her hands in disgust at the bar, and ashamed she had stereotyped this friendly Orc.

"Thank you," she meekly replied. He led her down a few small steps on the opposite side of the room, and opened the door at the end of the hall. He stepped back with his arm stretched out, propping the door open for Ami to enter first, like a gentlemen. "Thank you," she said with smile. He nodded politely as she entered into another hallway. The door closed behind them as he led her to the doors at the end of the hall. He opened the door on the right, revealing a small room. Inside the room was a bed on top of a red and green rug, which was almost too big for the room, a desk and chair, and a small chest at the foot of the bed. A small candle on the desk lit the room barely well enough to see clearly.

"This is it," he said. "The linens are fresh, just changed them this morning. The room next door is mine so if you need anything later, after Barkwell sets sail, just give my door a knock. I'll be in there all night."

"There are only two rooms on the boat?" she asked. "That's strange for a transport ship."

"Oh no. There's the cabin's quarters upstairs, of course, but there's a third floor beneath us. But, trust me you don't want to sleep there. We store the fish we catch on that floor as well. It's a bit smellier down there," he explained.

"I see. How long before we dock at the Imperial City?"

"Usually the trip takes eight to nine hours if the weather permits. We dock around dawn usually."

"Could you wake me as soon as we dock?" she asked. Her excitement was beginning to replace her anxiety. She was eager to explore her new city.

"Of course, my lady. Sleep well."

"Thank you Vargenoc. Goodnight," she entered the room, and gave him a grateful smile. He smiled back as she shut the door. She removed her shoes and placed them on top of the small wooden chest, and her coin purse she sat next to her shoes. She stopped momentarily, thinking where she should put her precious bag. She tucked it under the pillow, the safest place she could think of, and felt comfortable with its hiding spot. She bent down and sniffed her linens. They smelled of lavender and sage. Satisfied she pulled down the blankets but stopped before climbing in. Instead she turned to the chair, lifted it and moved it to the door, wedging it under the door's handle. _Vargenoc's still an orc, _she thought_, and Barkwell's still an ass._ After testing the door with a quick pull, she climbed into bed, resting her head on the slightly elevated pillow. After laying there for several minutes, she felt the ship begin to sail. Tired, but not ready to sleep, she forced her eyes to stay open. A few minutes later she heard footsteps in the hall and the door next to hers close shut. She waited a bit longer, listening intently for any rustling or movement next door or in the hall. Silence. She finally relaxed and felt her eyes closed. _Paranoia/ mother, _she thought to herself, and then drifted off into sleep.

She abruptly awoke and sat straight up. She wasn't sure how long she slept. What she was sure of, was that she needed to puke- now. She looked around. There was nothing she could puke in. She made a quick decision. She climbed out of bed, ran out of the room, and through the door at the end of the hall. _Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, _she thought, doubting she would make it. She made a sharp left and busted through the door. She just made it outside when, BLAAAAH! She projectile vomited off the ships railing and into the sea. After a few more moments, which seemed like forever, of gut wrenching purging, her stomach was finally empty and began to calm. The cool wind and spray of the sea felt good on her hot face. Just when she began to feel better she heard a roaring noise from behind. Laughter. Loud, boorish, obnoxious laughter. Ami turned to face to source. Above the entrance to the ship's belly standing next to the wheel was Barkwell. In between his fits of laughter and gasps to find his breath she heard him say, "What'ya feeling' seasick? (Laughter) I've never seen an Altmer upchuck like that in my life! (More laughter) I don't think I've EVER seen that kinda pukin' before!" He continued to laugh, nearly doubling over. Ami grimaced and said nothing. She felt like crap and didn't have the energy for him. She slowly and somberly walked back to her room and again wedged it shut with the chair. She checked for her shoes, purse and bag- all still there- and climbed back into bed. She almost thought she could still hear him laughing from all the way outside but tried to ignore it. Soon she'd be back on dry land, ready to start her life over.

Welcoming Committee

Ami's eyes opened, suddenly wide awake and slightly disoriented. She was awakened by something but was unsure of what it was. She sat up and tried to look around but the room was too dark to see. She searched her brain, trying to remember the Illusion spell she knew for light. After a brief moment, she remembered and mentally casted the spell. Her skin became luminous, fully lighting the small room. She looked at the candle on the desk. During the night it had completely melted into a waxy puddle, long cooled.

"Ma'am, are you awake?" she heard a voice call outside her door, followed by a few sharp knocks. It was Vargenoc who had woken her.

"Um, y-yes, I am," she replied, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

"We just docked at the Imperial City waterfront, Ma'am." Her heart skipped at the news. She did it! She escaped the village she hated, with her mother's stolen bag and gold, left Summerset Isle and made it to Cyrodiil! Now she could start over, completely free from her oppressive past. "You're welcome to have breakfast upstairs," he said through the door.

"Thank you. I'll be up in a few minutes," she replied, containing her excitement. She heard his footsteps walk away from the door as she uncovered and put her feet on the floor. She yawned and stretched her arms, legs, and back. Her back was especially stiff from sleeping in her bustier gown. She slipped her red velvet shoes back on and rose to her feet. Her bag and coin purse again were strapped on her shoulder and around her neck, leaving them to hanging securely across her body. She ran her fingers through her long hair and retied her ponytail which had come loose during sleep. As her light spell expired and the room went dark, she un-wedged the chair and opened the door, then made her way back upstairs.

Her eyes fell upon a variety of fruits and cheeses on the table to her right. Her recently purged stomach loudly growled at the sight.

"Yeah I bet you're hungry!" a voice mocked from behind, startling Ami to jump slightly. She turned around to face the voice. Sitting behind her at the other table tucked into a corner, sat Barkwell. She blushed, embarrassed that he heard her growling stomach and angry that he thought her vomiting was so hilarious last night. He made her suddenly loose her appetite. She sharply turned away from him, clearly annoyed, but ignored him. She approached Vargenoc who stood behind the bar, eating strawberries from a metal bowl.

"Mi-lady! Good morning!" he greeted her with that familiar smile. "How 'bout some breakfast? I have a few hard boiled eggs that would go well with cheddar cheese slices. Or perhaps some berries or melon?" She wouldn't eat. Not with that contemptible Nord around.

"No, thank you. I must be going. This is for you." She reached into her purse, pulling out three gold coins, and laid them on the bar. "Thank you for being so kind to me." The orc's eyes lit up.

"Why thank you mi-lady!" he gleamed as he pocketed the coins. "May Akatosh bless you and keep you safe on your travels!" She smiled and bid farewell. She did not even offer Barkwell a gracious nod as she exited to the boat deck.

The Imperial City docks reminded her much of Shimmerwave's. It was also crescent- shaped with a stone walkway in the middle leading to a lighthouse. Past the light house, the walkway led up to a huge curved wall- the Imperial City. She crossed the wooden bridge from the ship the the stone path and began to stroll, looking all around her and taking in the sights. The city walls stood twice as high as the walls typical in Summerset. The stones used in their architecture were similar to the stones used in Shimmerwave in size and shape, but not in color or quality. Stones used in Summerset were sandy beige, smooth, and always scrubbed clean at the first sign of mildew or filth. The stones in this city were gray, bumpy in texture, and thick with moss and mold, obviously not well maintained.

As Ami strolled along, looking everywhere but ahead, she walked right into a dark haired Dumner.

"Hey watch it!" she growled, knocking Ami away from her with her forearm. Her red eyes glared into Ami. She was dressed in a white and brown cotton blouse with tight black pants and leather boots with a long sword at her waist.

"I'm so sorry!" Ami said as she regained her balance. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking." She apologized, flashing a quick smile.

"Well you better start lookin' or you may just walk into the edge of my blade!" the Dumner snarled. Ami was shocked by the threat. She quickly scurried away, shooting quick glances behind her at the angry Dunmer staring a hole into her back. She approached an archway to her right and hurried through it, hoping to be out of sight of the angry Dunmer woman. As she hurried down the steps of the archway she couldn't help but slow down. Even though the Dumner's threat threw her, she couldn't help but be calmed by the magnificent view. The sky was burning with hot pinks, oranges, and yellows. She could see far out into the bay and across at the beautiful hills that surrounded the channel. Leaves of green, yellow and red swayed in the breeze as the ocean water sparkled under the morning sun.

As she stood there, hypnotized by the beautiful view, a wood elf walked under the archway behind her. He slowed, seeing the young Altmer woman lost in the view. His eyes summed up the young lady; expensive red and gold gown, nice shoes, travel bag and a coin purse hanging at her side…a rich tourist. With a quick glance around to be sure he was clear, he pulled out a small sharp blade and crept silently behind her. He held in his breath and quickly cut the fine ropes right above the purses mouth. The Altmer didn't move, still taking in the view around her. Purse in hand, the wood elf crept away, back through the archway; his work for the next few days was done.

Ami, oblivious to what just happened to her, began to stroll along the waterfront. She was confused by the shack homes along the way. The waterfront was reserved for the wealthiest and grandest homes in the oceanfront cities in Summerset Isle. Here they were rotting, moldy smelly hovels. She began to realize she was in a less desirable part of town when the only people she saw wore filthy rags, so she immediately walked back towards the docks. She peeked around the archway, hoping to avoid another run-in with that Dumner and saw she was engaged in conversation with two brutes. _Bitch, _she thought. Her stomach began to growl again. She saw a guard dressed in full steel armor patrolling and walking in her direction. She approached him and asked,

"Excuse me. Do you know where I can have a meal?"

"Try the Bloated Float," he replied, pointing to a ship at the far end of the path. With a quick "thank you" she took off in that direction. She felt for her purse, preparing to remove a few coins for her purchase then stopped. Her hand couldn't find her purse. Her hands and eyes followed down the rope strap until they discovered the frayed ends that had been cut. She stared at the frayed ropes in disbelief. _How did this happen? I know I had it when I left the boat. I tipped the Orc before I left. _Then her mind suddenly clicked. _The Dunmer. I ran into her. She could have easily cut it, and then distracted me by her shove and threats. It must have been her! _Her temper flared at the realization. She quickly turned and sprinted back to the Dunmer woman. Her temper nullifying her senses, she approached the Dark Elf.

"Hey!" she hollered. "Give back my purse!" she ordered, her fists clenched at her sides and face glowing beet red as she approached her. The Dumner and her Imperial and Redguard comrades ceased their conversation and watched her intensely. The Dunmer, recognizing Ami from before, stepped forward to respond.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she said with her arms crossed at her chest.

"Don't play stupid. You stole my purse you bitch!" she yelled. Ami's eyes rested on the Dunmer's coin purse that hung at her waist. "I want my gold. It's in your purse isn't it?" she accused. Ami's left hand went to snatch the small leather coin purse. The Dunmer grabbed Ami's arm with her left hand, digging her strong fingers into her skin and then reached for her sword's hilt with the other. Ami's eyes widened, as she was suddenly aware of what was happening. With her free fist she punched the Dumner's face as hard as she could, breaking free from her grasp. As the Dunmer hit the ground she could hear her comrades cry: "ASSAULT! ASSAULT!" Ami turned away to flee, and ran smack into iron armor. The same Imperial Guard who had given her directions moments before firmly grasped her arm even harder than the Dunmer had and she winced in pain.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. She felt intimidated, terrified, and still angry.

"You don't understand! She stole my purse!" she tried to explain.

"I did not!" retorted the Dunmer, back on her feet. "But she tried to take mine then punched me in the face! Ask them!" She pointed to her comrades who asserted their agreement in unison.

"Attempted robbery and assault? That's a hundred and twenty dollar fine. Pay up or be jailed!" the guard growled.

"You're not listening!" she screamed, struggling in his grasp. "I have no gold! That ashy bitch stole it!" She continued to yell, insisting that she had been robbed, as the guard ignored her and dragged her to the prison.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Criminal Behavior

As the guard dragged her through the streets, pedestrians couldn't help but stop and watch the spectacle unfolding: A wild Alter maiden crying, explaining, begging to be released, and trying to tug her arms away from the guard's grasp. Incoherently she tried to tell her whole story from start to finish in between gasps and tears; how she left Summerset Isle, her family, her horse, the boat ride, her arrival to Cyrodiil and how the Dumner woman must have robbed her. It was a rare occasion for the guard to bind a prisoner in the streets since most prisoners knew they were greatly outnumbered by guardsmen and therefore chose to come quietly to avoid resisting arrest fees and additional jail time. But Ami thought nothing and knew nothing of this. Her only thought was that surely she could reason with him and make him understand.

She was still flailing her arms against the guard's steel armor and struggling to break free from his grasp when the exasperated guard threw her to the ground. As he pushed her forward into the hard stones beneath her, she felt her body absorb the impact of the jagged, unforgiving stones of the street and for a moment her breath escaped her. As the guard gripped her arms behind her back another guard came to assist. Suddenly she was aware of the spectacle she had become. She allowed her face to rest against the cool stones of the walkway and glanced at the random faces she could see standing afar. Some passersby glanced at her inquisitively as they kept walking to their destinations while others stopped to congregate in two and threes, whispering to each other about the crazy High Elf being arrested in the street. She heard whispers of words like crazy and skooma sucker. She fell quiet as her face warmed and tears began to sting her eyes. _I have to stop fighting this, _she thought. _Surely I will get a chance to explain once I'm out of the street. _As the guards closed the shackles around her wrists she gathered what little composure she had and laid still and quiet. But before she could say she would go peacefully from here on, she felt a thick rag being forced into her mouth so deep she thought she would choke. A rope was placed in between her upper and lower teeth like a horse bridle securing the gag in place and tied across her face, the knot digging in the back of her head. She thought she would vomit but realized she couldn't even if she needed to since the gag was blocking the exit. The thought of choking to death on her own vomit in the middle of the Imperial City street caused her head to spin and limbs to go limp. As the guards pulled her to her feet her knees buckled causing her right knee to slam into the stones beneath her. Her bound face cringed in pain. Another sharp jolt by the guards brought her back up to her feet and she was escorted to the jail, her right leg slightly limping and her head hanging low.

Welcome to Prison

She wasn't sure how long they walked or how they got there but suddenly she was on a walkway outside the city. In front of her was a massive stone building with large sturdy doors and two guards guarding the front. She felt a strange wave of relief. Sure it was the jail, but soon the soggy gag would be removed along with her shackles and she can explain how this was all a misunderstanding. Without saying a word, one of the posted guards opened the door, and she was escorted inside. Once inside they led her to the right and down a narrow flight of stairs and into a room. Another lightly armored guard sat behind a large desk overflowing with books and papers. Even though the room was well lit with torches and lamps he still seemed like her couldn't find what he was looking for. As he looked up he seemed surprised by what he saw; a disheveled Altmer woman in an

expensive gown, covered in dirt and small rips, bound and gagged like she were the worst criminal they'd seen in years. But the surprised look quickly left his face and he was back to business.

"What do you got, Barcus?" he asked still sitting at his desk looking down at his papers.

The guard who once kindly recommended a place for her to eat casually responded, "Assault and attempted robbery of a citizen at the docks. Unable to pay her fine, I took her into custody to escort her here. She resisted arrest numerous times, at first verbally then violently. Thaxon came to assist in her arrest." The jailor scribbled in his book, documenting Barcus' details of the account.

"How many occurrences of resistance?"

"Numerous." He replied.

Annoyed by the vague response he quipped, "How MANY, Barcus?"

"Easily ten, at which point we had no choice but to administer restraints."

"How many after constraint?" he asked, still scribbling in his book.

"None, sir."

"Any other offenses?", his tone bored and monotonous.

"No, sir."

"Escort a jail magistrate to the victim and witnesses. I believe Theriol is available in his office. Have it completed and returned to me within the hour."

"Yes, sir!" Both men replied.

"With the HOUR, Barcus!", his eyes lifted from his books and rested on Barcus'. After an intense and uncomfortable stare, the guardsman, shifting uneasily in his armor, slightly embarrassed that his punctuality had been called out, replied slightly over a mumble, "Yes, sir."

Finally Barcus released his grip on Ami's left arm, and she felt instant relief but sure she would be bruised from his grasp. As the guardmen left the room and went upstairs, the jailor rose from his desk and walked toward the large chest of drawers behind him. The component stood higher then both of them and was as long as the wall. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out what looked like rags and returned them to his desk. On top of the rags sat makeshift shoes make of string and straw. Then he walked parallel to the drawers to a small door on the wall, barely noticeable between the surrounding weapons and shields, and opened it. Ami stretched her neck to see a tiny stone room, barely 4 by 4 feet with only a small lantern hanging from the ceiling to light it. Her heart began to race. _Is that my cell? That little room? Will I really be locked in there?_ She could feel panic returning to her. But then the jailor walked over, stood directly in front of her and looked her in the eyes. His unmitigated stare made her feel minuscule despite having a few inches on him.

"This is what's going to happen. I'm going to remove your shackles and inventory your belongings. They will be kept in here until your fee is paid or you've served your time. Once the magistrate has documented the witness's statements he will return with a complete account and give a recommended jail sentence. You will have one opportunity to send a letter via standard courier to whomever you wish for assistance in paying your fine. You will be confined here to serve your sentence whether that person can pay your fine or not. You will be released once it's paid in full. Now I'm going to remove your shackles and gag. If you physically or audibly resist, you forfeit your right to change your clothes with dignity and will be undressed and changed by my guardsmen. Additional fees and jail time will apply. Nod if you understand and comply." He stated, simply and matter-of-factly.

Terrified by the thought of his guards removing her clothing she gave quick, tight, and very sincere nods. He reached for the keys that hung from his belt, next to his dagger then stepped behind her and unlocked her shackles. As he reattached his keys she rubbed each wrist with her other hand. It felt so good to finally have them off. As he fumbled to untie the rope that gagged her she could feel him clumsily tugging her hair, and she suddenly realized he was cutting the rope with his dagger. _Oh please don't cut off an ear!_, she thought. Then she felt the rope snap and release and saw that he had only cut a few hairs as they fell to the floor. She pulled out the soggy rag that had nearly been choking her and rubbed her slightly raw lips and cheeks. Unsure of what to do with the rag, she reached out to hand it to him as he walked in front of her again, at which he only looked at her with a snarl and said, "I don't want that," then picked up her standard jail rags to hand them to her. Embarrassed, she clutched the rag in her fist by her side.

"Remove your bag," he ordered. She hesitated, not wanting to release her mother's precious bag. "Now!" he barked. She had no choice. As she removed the strap from her body she tried to implant every texture of it in her mind in case it was the last time she touched it. The strap was both a strong and a soft leather, still smelled fresh and earthy, and somehow, no matter how much it carried felt light as a feather. The jailor reached out and removed it from her grasp and shoved the rags in her arms. Her heart sank and she felt sick, as though she had lost a limb. The jailor ushered her to the tiny changing room and pushed her in. "You have two minutes," he said and closed the door.

She stood for a moment in the cold dim room, lost in her sadness that she no longer carried her mother's bag. With a deep breath she dropped her prison rags and gag and began tugging at the ties of her corset. Normally it took Ami far longer to remove her stuffy clothing but she did so on this occasion in record time. The same second she pulled her pants up the door swung open. Relieved she beat the clock, she scooped up her gown, gag and old shoes and handed them to the jailor to be inventoried. He laid her belongings on the desk as she sat in the chair in front and put on her makeshift shoes. "Ugh," he scoffed in disgust as he picked up her slobbery gag with his forefinger and thumb, barely touching it, and flung it at her. She felt her teeth grind. _Why so bothered by a little spit?,_ she thought.

She watched at he folded her gown on top of her bag, and placed her shoes on top of her gown. He scribbled something in his book on the desk then simply said, "Name?" Her mind raced. _What should I do? Tell him the truth? Make one up? What harm could it do if I lie? What good will it do if I'm honest?_ Unable to decide, defeated, she replied, "Ami Mandonus."

He scribbled some more, then took her clothes to the drawers behind him. He unlocked one towards the middle and low to the ground, placed her belongings, and locked it back up. He approached her once more and said, "This way."

She took one last look towards the locked drawers and then was escorted to her cell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

What a Day

So there she was, lying on a dirty straw mat in an Imperial prison. She couldn't sleep. So many traumatic events in such a short time frame had stolen that from her. She was exhausted, angry, and debilitated, but sleep eluded her. She wanted so desperately to escape her reality even if was for a few minutes but she could not force her eyes to close or her mind to be quiet. Every memory she relived in her mind, from her cruel classmates, to her weapons training, to her crush on the gate keeper, to her mother's death, to her father's withdrawal, to Tresella, to her horse, to the stinky sailor, the kind orc, the beautiful bay view, the arrest- all her memories and thoughts jumbled at once in her mind and she could not silence them. Her eyes once more swelled with tears. She cried heavily but quietly, lacking the energy to even whimper. The tears flowed like rivers drenching her cheeks and burning her eyes. She felt the pain in her stomach and in her heart and succumbed to them the only way she could. She cried. She let herself go and lost herself in her tears, allowing each horrible and exquisite moment in her life plenty of them. For a while the world ceased to exist; only her tears existed. Her tears fell until there were finally none left. By the time her last tear fell, she felt as though she were in a trance. Her mind was empty, her body was numb, and finally she felt nothing- but tired. To feel nothing at all was a relief from feeling everything at once. She was finally on the verge of sleep. As she began to drift off to sleep she thought, _All I needed was a good cry._

Oh the Humanity

She awoke with a familiar twinge. Her bladder was full and she needed to relieve herself. She slowly twisted and sat up on her mat. Her body felt stiff from the unforgiving floor and her face tight from the salty tears. Her very swollen eyes rested on the small bucket in the corner. Draped on the side was a small rag. Her eyes then shot to the small rag beside her mat, the one she had been gagged with. Her face cringed with disgust. _Gods, I hope they washed that, _she thought. _No wonder the jailor was disgusted by my gag-rag. _She quickly pushed the thought from her mind, worried she wouldn't be able to stomach the possibility it wasn't washed. _It didn't taste dirty. _Again she pushed the thought out of her mind. She rose to her feet, picked up her gag, and found that her saliva had dried. She delicately nudged the other rag off the bucket with her straw shoe, not wanting to touch it with her fingers, and remembered how the jailor didn't want to touch her gag and flung it at her. She cringed and sniffed her cloth gag. _Smells clean, _she thought and desperately hoped.

She nudged the bucket with her foot into a more desirable spot, dropped her pants, and relieved herself in the bucket. She used her own gag to wipe and dropped it to the floor. Suddenly she heard a soft snicker, and startled, quickly pulled her pants up. She looked around and could barely see across her own jail cell. As she walked towards the front of her cell her eyes adjusted to the dimness in the cell hall. She could barely make out the form of a person. Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment of what the man might have seen. Barely able to make out his form, perhaps he could barely make out hers. Then she noticed the flickering torch on the wall right next to her bucket, highlighting the small area. She may not have been able to see him but surely he could see her. The realization of her lack of privacy made her feel violated and embarrassed.

Then she heard a voice, sleazy and mocking.

"Well, well, look at the _elegant_ Altmer maiden, squatting on a bucket!" His giggles making Ami turn redder.

"Where's your dignity now huh? Where's that famous High Elf poise and bearing?" His laughs grew more verbose.

"You know, my times almost up. Pretty soon I'll be free and you'll still be stuck in this rat hole, squatting over a bucket! He he he! Oh how I will miss the free shows!" Ami's shame deepened, and she feared her degradation would never end. She didn't know what to say. She had to say something. She couldn't bear being ridiculed by a miscreant pervert.

She shot back, "This is a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here! I'll be out of here before you will!" He erupted with laughter and she further reddened at her lame retort. As his laughter ceased, even in the dimness of her cell she could see his face darken. His words dripped with venom.

"No, you're going to die in here. That's right. I heard the guards talking. You're going to die in here High Elf. You're going to die!" he growled.

_The jailor hasn't even come back with the jail sentence from the magistrate. He knows nothing! I won't die in here. I can't! _she thought and brushed off his cruel words. Then in the silence she heard a door open followed by footsteps. Fear crept up inside her. _This must be him._

Stay out of the Way

"Hey you hear that? The guards are coming… for you!" the man evilly snickered. _Please let the sentence be merciful_ she prayed. She stood at her cell door, her hands gripping tightly onto the iron bars. She could hear voices talking but could only make out a few words; "lock that door", "they're dead, aren't they", "only said attacked". As they came closer she distinctly heard a man's voice filled with sorrow say, "No they're dead. I know it." Ami's hands gripped the bars tighter trying to hear more. She glanced across the cell and saw light from a torch begin to illuminate the man's cracked face. _A Dunmer! Figures,_ she thought. But it was somehow comforting to see he was listening as intently and nervously as she was.

"We must get you to safety, sir!" Ami stood there as three guards came into view, one carrying the torch, along with a very rich looking man. She knew immediately that he had the sorrowful voice, for his face read the same- Sorrow. Ami couldn't help but notice the guards were wearing different armor this time- expensive, well crafted, dangerous looking armor. One Imperial woman, one Redguard man, and- the jailor!

"Jailor!" Ami exclaimed, suddenly oblivious to the others around him. "Have you determined my sentence?" She was nervous but eager to learn her fate. They all ignored her inquiry.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!" The Imperial guard barked.

"Usual mix up with the watch. I-I.." the jailor stuttered.

Ami, never missing the chance to be smart, interrupted accusingly, "YOU!" she snidely pointed out, "Put me here." Every word was taunting and deliberate. It felt good to release a little frustration on the jailor and make him look stupid in front of his apparent superior. She could feel a very Altmer smirk creep onto her face and she could see agitation creep upon his as she stared dead in his eyes.

"Nevermind!" said the Imperial woman. "Get that gate open! Stand back prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way." Ami was perplexed. "You…Your coming in here?" she stammered.

"Stand aside, prisoner. Over by the window and you won't get hurt." She glanced at the window then back at the guards, still perplexed. "Over by the window now!" bellowed the jailor. She released her grip on the bars and crossed her cell and watched as they unlocked her cell door, entered, then locked it behind them. _What is going on?_ The woman walked towards her, eyeing Ami carefully, on alert. The Redguard still at the cell bars looking around said, "No sign of pursuit."

"Good. Let's go." She responded.

The Imperial woman approached the shackles that hung on the wall and gave the one on the left a hard pull. Ami felt the ground and walls around her flutter while the sharp friction of the grinding stones almost hurt her ears. She stood in awe as the wall between the shackles shifted to the left and she felt a chilling draft come out of the hidden passage behind it. Ami couldn't believe it. This sudden revelation made her wonder if during her prison sentence, she would have ever happened upon it.

As the woman stepped into the dirt passageway, the others began to follow. Ideas began to cross Ami's mind. The chance at freedom was suddenly in her reach again. As her mind plotted, the rich old man stopped. His stares and sudden expression of recognition brought Ami out of her thoughts, and made her uncomfortable.

"You!" he murmured, "I've seen you!" His hands whisked her stray hairs from her face and cupped her cheeks, inching her head closer to his face. "Let me see your face." His voice rose with excitement. Ami was bewildered. Of all the things that had happened to her, a strange, old, rich man gripping her face was by far the weirdest. She didn't know what to do so she did nothing, and let the old man study her face. She stood, wide eyed and looking around the room, glancing at the others' faces, and noticed their expressions shared the same bewilderment.

"You are the one from my dreams." He concluded and released her face. His expression became vague and his eyes unfocused as he murmured, "Then the Gods were right. And this is the day. Gods give me strength." Ami, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, hoped he would just go away. He stood stoic and silent, deep in thought for what felt like and eternity. Ami looked desperately at the Imperial woman and whispered to her, "What's going on?"

The old man snapped back into reality, his tone and demeanor completely changed, and answered simply and sanely, "Assassins attacked my sons and I am next. My blades," he said glancing around at his guards, "are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance," a strange smile crossed his face, "the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

Then he was silent. _Assassins, Blades, and secret escape routes through jail cells? This is crazy. _After a few moments of silence, the only thing she could think to say was, "Who are you?"

"I am your Emperor Uriel Septim," he replied. "By the grace of the Gods I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel and you too shall serve her in your own way."

Again, an uncomfortable silence followed. She hoped a guard would say something, tell him to keep moving, get him away from her but they didn't. She had to break the silence, and his solemn stare. She crossed her arms and stammered, "I...I shouldn't even be here. In jail…In Tamriel…I'm not from here…I don't know why I'm here."

His face softened upon realizing her uneasiness and gave a faint but comforting smile.

"Perhaps the Gods have put you here so that we may meet." He embraced her arms with his hands, his grip soft yet strong, exactly as her father did when he knew she was upset. "As for what you have done, it does not matter. That," he assured, "is not what you will be remembered for." He seemed so certain of his words that it made her even more uneasy. She spoke slowly and carefully, trying to maintain a calming tone. "The God's didn't put me here," she said, as if he were a child or had dementia. She worried if her words might push him back to loony or erratic. "My choices put me here. I'm sure and without a doubt… I created my path and I've always gone my own way."

He smiled at her cautiousness, knowing full well she thought he was crazy. He simply replied, "So do we all. But what path can be avoided by the almighty Gods?" His hands left her arms and he looked at his guards, who were glancing nervously at each other, unsure of what to make of this impromptu conversation with a random prisoner. Once they realized he had given his silent permission to speak the woman spoke first. "Please sire, we must keep moving." She again moved towards the secret passageway. "Baurus, better not close this one, there's no way to open it from the other side." Ami watched the Imperial lead the Emperor down into darkness as she began sorting out the conversation with the emperor in her mind. Again the jailor reminded her, "Don't try anything and stay out of our way!" then scurried down the path after the emperor. Ami rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I got it!" she curtly replied. Finally the Redguard torch bearer followed. As he opened his mouth to say something, Ami cut him off.

"Stay out of the way! Yeah yeah, I got it!" she snapped. The Redguard gave a tight grin with a gleam in his eye. He looked down the narrow escape route then back at Ami.

"Looks like this is your lucky day, prisoner." He casually strolled into the passageway then turned back to Ami and added,

"Just stay out of our way."


End file.
